Only Patients Are Allowed in Medical
by TheRedDragon173
Summary: A reimagining of Season 2 Episode 2, told from Clarke's POV. This is a different explanation from what the show gives on why Clarke makes the decision to reopen her wound. The "comfort" part of "hurt/comfort" does not apply. [Warnings: ptsd, severe depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and actions] If any of these topics trigger you, please be cautious! [Ambiguous ending]
**Disclaimer: I do not own The 100. **

**Author's Note: This is told from Clarke's point of view, and is a reimagining of parts of Season 2 Episode 2. The ending is left purposely vague.**

 **WARNINGS [IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ!]: suicidal thoughts and actions; graphic depictions of self-harm and suicide; post traumatic stress disorder and severe depression**

 **Please be cautious if you are triggered by any of the above!**

* * *

 _Only patients are allowed in Medical._

That's what Dr. Tsing said, and I'm pretty sure they'll try harder from now on to make sure that rule is enforced, especially with me. All things considered, I really can't push my luck any further. As it is, the others are already angry with me…

And why wouldn't they be? Jasper and Miller are right – if I keep behaving the way I have been, eventually the people of Mount Weather will get tired of me, of my attitude. It wouldn't be the first time people have had enough of me. And then what will I have accomplished? I will have made it so that my people, the people I have fought so hard to protect, would lose the only security and comfort they have ever had in their lives.

Because this really is the first time that they've had security, isn't it? On the Ark, any crime, even the smallest infraction, was met with swift and terrible punishment. If you were 18, you were floated; if you were younger, you got locked up. The 48 of us know that all too well.

And here, we are safe. We have plenty of food, new clothes, medical care, and yes; _we aren't being hunted_. Which is certainly a relief.

Or it would be. But I can't believe it, can't accept it. I wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, grabbing for a knife I no longer have on me, afraid that I'm being attacked again. I' haunted by nightmares of the Grounders capturing Finn and Bellamy, of the two of them being tortured to death by the faceless dark shadow if the Commander. And I'm stuck in here, unable to do anything to help them.

Of course, these dreams only come when I sleep, which is becoming a less and less frequent occurrence. I've taken to staying up late into the night, pinching myself or clawing at my legs to keep myself awake. The circles under my eyes are getting darker and deeper, and my eyes sting all day. I practically _drown_ myself in coffee.

And "drowning" is a pretty apt description for the way I'm feeling about my life right now. I feel as if I'm running through mud and being sucked down, like one of those giant river snakes has grabbed hold of my foot and is dragging me down. Like someone has put a blindfold over my eyes and bound my hands, leaving me helpless on the floor. As if I'm sinking into the dark, no longer even sure which direction I need to swim if I want to reach the surface, or if I even want to reach the surface at all.

The whole world seems darker than it was before, like a dark veil has descended over my eyes, literally turning everything to grey. It's not like that veil wasn't there before, but I could always ignore it until now. I had to keep living, fighting, surviving, because I had to make sure that the truth about the Ark's oxygen supply would one day be known, because the other kids on the ground were depending on me to keep them alive, because I had to keep Bellamy in line and prevent everything from falling into chaos, because I wanted to see my Mom again, because… because… because… There was always a reason, always an imminent physical threat or problem that needed to be dealt with. Now, there's only me and my mind.

And that mind grows darker by the day, and thoughts that I had barely entertained, that I had scared away with righteous fury and a knowledge of what had to be done were creeping in and making themselves at home. Tendrils of dark ideologies drifted through my consciousness, creeping over my will to survive, choking my sense of right and wrong.

 _Clarke, you sound like a crazy person_.

That's what Jasper told me, and I can't deny the truth of the statement. But he doesn't know the _half_ of it. He doesn't know how low I am, how deluded, how utterly lost and jaded and completely _insane_. He doesn't know about the flashbacks, which I can no longer avoid even when I'm awake, which leave me gasping, leaning against a wall, eyes darting side to side, hoping no one is around to see. He doesn't know about the voices in my head, almost _audible_ with how constantly, how insistently they sneer at me.

 _You're a failure._

 _You're an embarrassment._

 _What do you think your mother thinks of you? Her only child went and shamed her by getting herself locked up._

 _You can't do anything right. Did you even_ _try_ _to save that little Grounder girl?_

 _You let so many people die. If you had been stronger, if you had been smarter, if you had been_ _better_ _, you could have made sure that more than a mere 48 people survived._

 _If you had cared more, if you had been more skilled, you could have saved Finn and Raven and Bellamy and Octavia and Wells and Charlotte…_

 _You should have done more._

 _You should have done better._

 _You don't deserve to be at peace._

 _You deserve to be in pain._

 _You don't deserve to live._

I took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning back in the chair I was sitting in. As the days went by, my thoughts grew darker, and the voices became louder and louder.

 _You deserve to feel pain._

 _You don't deserve to live._

 _You deserve to die._

Maybe they're right. Maybe it's time to call it quits, to put an end to this whole charade. Finn and Bellamy are probably dead anyway, and Raven too. Octavia… well, she's a different matter.

Thinking of Octavia makes my lips quirk upward. It's the closest thing I can manage to a smile, nowadays. That girl is a survivor, and she and Lincoln… somehow I can't help but feel that those two will make it through. Even if everything else falls to dust, even if everything we know ends, those two will make it out. They are strong, and stronger together.

But I'm not.

The hint of a smile that was on my face vanishes, and I feel more somber than ever.

I'm weak, and pathetic, and I can't do anything right.

 _You deserve to die_.

It's true. I have caused so much pain, so much suffering… I doubt anyone will miss me when I'm gone. My mother is dead, along with most of my friends. The ones that survive probably hate me now, because I'm a danger to them, a danger to their safety.

 _You've done enough damage. It's time to let go_.

I sigh and shakily move across the room, towards my bed. I don't have any guns, any knives, anything that can do damage. Fortunately, I've already done the damage, I already have the wound – all I need to do is open it up again.

I pull my sleeve up and pull the bandage off, then lift my arm to a sharp protrusion on the edge of the bedpost.

If I survive, I'll talk to that soldier.

But hopefully, I won't.

'Dad, Mom, Wells, Ballamy, Raven, Finn…' Like a mantra, the names of the people I've let die, the names of the people I've failed, the names of the people I've killed pound through my head.

Gasping at the pain, I pull my arm along the sharp corner of the bedpost, ripping open the stitches. Blood gushes out, and I gasp in relief and pain.

 _You deserve this._

I do.

"I deserve this," I whisper to the empty room, sliding down until I'm seated on the floor. My vision starts to turn hazy, and everything feels cold. I close my eyes, and slowly the pain begins to fade. I'm still cold, but I don't really feel the pain anymore. Hopefully, I never will again. Hopefully, this is where it ends.

 _Goodnight._


End file.
